


Three Cringe Worthy Phrases

by tehfanglyfish



Category: Merlin (TV), 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), But he recovers, Canon Era, Deviates From Canon, Jealous Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Love Confessions, M/M, arthur is an ass, takes place in camelot, with some help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:34:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26243488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tehfanglyfish/pseuds/tehfanglyfish
Summary: Merlin is thrilled to be hosting Camelot's first ever multi-realm conference on magic. Arthur is a jealous ass. Wei Wuxian is helpful.Or... I wrote a self-indulgent crossover.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 134





	Three Cringe Worthy Phrases

**Author's Note:**

> This is primarily a Merthur fic. I've never written anything for The Untamed. I haven't even finished it. So this deviates from all canon everywhere. 
> 
> Do not repost my work to other sites.
> 
> I claim none of these characters or franchises. I have never once made a money from any fannish endeavor, this one included.

“Another,” Arthur said as the barmaid placed a fresh mug of ale in front of him. “Actually, make it two.”

“You’re already on number eight. Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

Arthur’s only reply was a glare. They stared each other down for a moment.

“Fine,” the barmaid finally conceded. “Just be sure to go outside to die. We’re busy enough. I don’t have time to dispose of a body.”

As she walked away, maneuvering her way through the crowd, he took a long pull from his ale. At least his disguise was working. He had worried that people might recognize him despite the old clothes and blue cloak he’d stolen from Merlin. Well, not really stolen. Just borrowed. Without Merlin’s permission.

Besides, it wasn’t as though Merlin would notice, not with everything that was going on in Camelot right now.

Though the Rising Sun was normally full on a Friday, this evening it was almost bursting with the patrons crammed inside, a mixture of Camelot regulars and visitors from all over, in the city to attend the week-long conference on magic that Merlin had organized.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, a way for Arthur to demonstrate to the people at large that he wasn’t just permitting regulated sorcery with the lifting of the magic ban, but also embracing its practitioners as valued members of the realm. It was also a way to demonstrate to Merlin that Arthur held no hard feelings about his decade-long deception. Yes, he would have preferred that Merlin trust him with his secret sooner, but then Merlin would likely have preferred that Arthur rescind the ban as soon as he took the throne.

Better to dwell on the future than wallow in regret about the past, Arthur had decided when he named Merlin the official court warlock. Of course, Merlin still showed up with his breakfast every morning and blew out Arthur’s candles every night. Arthur had halfheartedly protested, secretly relieved that they still had quiet moments alone. He’d fallen, hard, for Merlin years earlier and time had done nothing to lessen his affection.

Sometimes, in the warm glow of the dining table’s candlelight, Arthur wondered if Merlin might feel the same way. It seemed that Merlin was always holding his gaze or letting his fingers brush against Arthur’s for longer than necessary when passing a dish. Or maybe Arthur was just imagining it, wishing so hard he saw signs where there were none.

Not that it mattered now, after his atrocious behavior during the midday intermission for the conference.

The attendees had come from all over. A good number were Druids or sorcerers from other realms in the five kingdoms, but others hailed from distant lands, some _very_ distant, all gathering to share knowledge on their regional variations of magic or spiritual cognition or whatever they wanted to call it.

There were witches and warlocks, sorcerers and shamans, priests and enchanters. One particular delegation, hailing from farther than the rest, called themselves cultivators.

Merlin tried patiently to explain the differences among them to Arthur, though with limited success. It wasn’t that Arthur didn’t care; his understanding of magic was simply too basic to entirely grasp the intricacies of what Merlin was telling him.

Besides, all that really mattered was that Merlin was happy. Every time Arthur managed to steal a few minutes alone with him, Merlin’s face lit up and he couldn’t stop smiling as he enthusiastically relayed some incomprehensible technical detail about magic he’d learned earlier that day.

Everything had been fine until earlier that afternoon.

“And Lan Xichen said that I would be welcome to return with them to Cloud Recesses to learn more,” Merlin had told him as they shared lunch. “Because my home is far away, I’m invited to stay indefinitely. He says they have a library that’s…”

What Lan Xichen said about the library, Arthur would never know, because Arthur’s world had come to a standstill. Merlin would be leaving with the cultivators to study with them for as long as he wanted. In a place called Cloud Recesses. That was so far away it could only be reached by portal spells.

There would be no riding out to see him, no way to even exchange letters.

It made sense that Merlin would want to go. Why wouldn’t he? The cultivators offered obscure books, advanced instruction, and they were all ridiculously pretty with their obscenely perfect hair. Arthur was a nothing more than a boorish brute who sometimes sat on a fancy chair.

The stupid cultivators were even skilled at swordsmanship, though Arthur was pretty sure he could easily best them all if they didn’t have the advantage of being able to fly through the air. Cheating bastards.

And so, feeling rejected, jealous, and inadequate, Arthur had let his mouth run, explaining in no uncertain terms that Merlin should go and, since he loved the cultivators so damn much, maybe never come back. Maybe he could grow his hair out and get some fancy robes too while he was at it.

Arthur knew what he was doing, lashing out to hurt Merlin before Merlin could hurt him. It was unfair, unkind, and unbecoming behavior for a king, much less a friend, yet somehow he couldn’t stop himself, the hateful words flowing freely even as he recoiled inside. To complete his awful outburst, he’d shoved his chair back from the table and stormed out of his chambers, slamming the door so hard he could have sworn that the stone walls shook.

Shame and frustration had led him to borrow Merlin’s clothes and sneak off to the tavern. Now he intended to drown his sorrows in the Rising Sun’s mediocre ale until he either passed out or got kicked out.

The barmaid returned with his order, shook her head when he demanded two more, but left him to his drinks in peace.

“Seat’s taken,” he growled as someone sat beside him on the bench. Arthur refused to look in their direction for fear of being recognized and hoped that his tone would scare away whoever it was.

Instead of leaving, the interloper reached for the untouched mug, stealing it before Arthur could stop him.

“It’s not Emperor’s Smile,” the man said after a long swallow, “but it’s better than nothing.”

Arthur turned to face the man sitting beside him. Great. Not only was he a cultivator, but he was the prettiest one of the entire delegation, the one who stood out with his mischievous smile, who looked so striking in his black robes when compared to the whites and blues worn by the others.

“You’ve made a wrong turn. The feast to commemorate the end of the conference is taking place in the castle.”

“True. That’s why I’m here. For the evening’s entertainment, Lan Zhan is droning on about the three thousand rules of Gusu Lan Sect. Better to find a wine house, I say. Or the closest thing Camelot has to one.”

“Can’t you find another table?”

“They’re all taken. Besides, I wanted to sit with you, King Arthur Pendragon. Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.” As if to reassure Arthur, he tapped the side of his nose.

Wonderful. The day had gone from bad, to worse, to complete hell.

“I really don’t feel like talking.”

“Fine. Then we can drink in silence. Just don’t make me go back to the lecture. I once had to copy the rules as a punishment. I know them well enough already.”

“Suit yourself.” Arthur waved to the barmaid to bring even more ale.

A few drinks later, Arthur decided that the man beside him, Wei Wuxian, wasn’t as bad as he’d thought. There was something about him that reminded Arthur of Gwaine. Despite his promise to drink in silence, he’d started talking, revealing himself to be far less uptight than the other cultivators.

He talked about everything from how to grow lotus plants, to his favorite liquor, to the reasons why donkeys were superior to dogs. They’d found common ground in their discussion of swords, even if he now preferred the flute for incomprehensible reasons. Arthur warmed to him as the night wore on.

“And not only will I miss his smile, I’ll be completely lost without him,” Arthur confessed as he slumped against Wei Wuxian’s shoulder, the excessive amounts of ale loosening his lips. “He’s always been at my side and now…”

“Perhaps you’ve had enough,” Wei Wuxian said, gently helping Arthur to his feet. “We need to get you home. And hopefully not pass any chicken coops along the way.”

Arthur supposed he owed the man a debt of gratitude. He wouldn’t have made it to his chamber door without Wei Wuxian’s help.

Just before he stumbled inside, strong fingers gripped his arm.

“Arthur,” Wei Wuxian began, “there are three cringe worthy phrases in one’s life that must be said, no matter what. Say them tomorrow and fix the mess you’ve made.”

“What are they?” Arthur asked, trying to stay steady on his feet.

Wei Wuxian eyed the corridor and, catching sight of the guard on patrol, leaned in to whisper them conspiratorially in Arthur’s ear.

“And they’ll work, will they?”

“They did with Lan Zhan. Find Merlin first thing tomorrow, before the delegations depart.”

And with that, Wei Wuxian left Arthur to sleep off the consequences of his night at the tavern.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Arthur awoke with a start, his head pounding and stomach churning. Still, there wasn’t time to worry with that. He gulped down most of the water from the previous day’s pitcher still sitting on his table, then used what little was left to tame his hair before dashing out into the corridor.

Servants, nobles, and guards all ducked out of his way as he ran through the halls. His body protested but he ignored it. He could be sick after he’d sorted things.

He’d begun sprinting up the stairs to Gaius’s infirmary when he crashed into someone making their way down.

“I’m sorry, thank you, I love you,” he blurted into the shoulder of a bewildered Merlin.

The impact of the collision caused him to lurch backward, strong arms catching him before he could topple down the stairs.

Merlin said nothing, but kept his hold on Arthur. People passed them by, but Merlin didn’t move. Pressed against him, Arthur could feel Merlin’s chest expand and contract as he took deep breaths. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Merlin spoke.

“I’m not kissing you until you’ve cleaned your teeth. And had a bath. You reek.”

Arthur couldn’t suppress the shudder of relief that shook his body.

“We also need to talk,” Merlin continued, “and I mean _really_ talk. You can’t just lash out whenever you feel jealous. But that can wait. I’m pretty sure you’ve punished yourself enough judging by the state of you. For now, let’s get you out of _my_ clothes and cleaned up as best we can. You have a delegation to send off.”

Oh gods. Arthur really wasn’t looking forward to playing the diplomat in his current state.

“And I suppose I will convince Gaius to give you something for your hangover. But only because I want Camelot to remain on good terms with its new friends and allies.”

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Even with Gaius’s remedy, it took all of Arthur’s strength to make it through the departure ceremony. He tripped over his words a couple of times, but considered it a victory that he didn’t collapse.

He’d almost bid farewell to everyone in the receiving line when he heard a familiar voice.

“You know,” Wei Wuxian said, “Gusu has the very best wine houses. Emperor’s Smile is…”

“Not something I want to think about right now,” Arthur said, his stomach lurching.

Wei Wuxian laughed. “Fair enough. But if Merlin does accept the invitation to Cloud Recesses, I wouldn’t mind sharing a jar of Emperor’s Smile with an old friend from a distant land.”

Then, after a bow that Arthur was far too unsteady to return, he flashed a quick smile before disappearing in a portal.

“Come on,” Merlin said, taking him by the hand. “After you’ve had a proper meal and a proper wash, I have plans for you.”

“Such as?” Arthur asked hoping that it meant what he thought it did.

“Copying the rules of the Gusu Lan Sect.”

“All three thousand of them?”

“Maybe not all of them. Just the ones relating to alcohol and being cruel to your friends. Then we can curl up in your bed and you can tell me how you two came to be friends. And properly apologize.”

The way he licked his lips left Arthur with no doubts as to what _that_ meant.

“I’ll copy while I eat,” he said, letting Merlin pull him down the hall.


End file.
